


The Dress

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: For the prompt: Donna Karan, bonus points for backstory for Mulder's remark in unnatural





	The Dress

She lingers in front of the window and looks the dress up and down. It is stunning. The sort of dress that would take people’s breath away. Dark red, hinting at danger, confidence, sensuality. It clings where it needs to, it drapes and flows and swirls. It is simple and elegant. It is also two pay packets worth of dress and she lets out a reluctant sigh as she turns away and walks to where Mulder is waiting with their coffees.  
The FBI ball is coming and it has been years since she’s attended. She remembers waltzing around the floor with Jack and getting tipsy on the sparkling white. He’d said something blunt about her behaviour and she’d ended up going home alone. The midnight blue dress she’d worn back then had never seen the light of day since. Maybe she could recycle it, if she decided to go this year.  
“Window shopping, Scully?” Mulder smiles as he gave her the cup.  
“Dreaming, Mulder.” She sips and lets the caffeine do its work.  
“Fantasies can actually be quite helpful to the human psyche, Scully,” he says, opening the door to the car for her. “They let your subconscious work through the difficulties of your day or your life, providing alternative courses of action for problem-solving, or just helping you to relax. It’s okay to dream.”  
She smiles at him. “Oh, believe me, Mulder. I do dream. I dream a lot.”  
His waggling eyebrows is so Mulder. “Tell me, Scully. I’d love to know.”  
“I bet you would, Mulder. But there are some secrets a woman has to keep.”  
He pouts. “I’m your partner. Secrets could endanger me.”  
She drinks her coffee and shakes her head. “Drive, Mulder.”  
She hasn’t seen him watching her and it isn’t the first time she’s stopped at that particular window. He’d taken a walk one lunch time to see what it was that had caught her eye. It was stunning. The sort of dress that would take people’s breath away. Dark red, hinting at danger, confidence, sensuality. It clinged where it needed to, it draped and flowed and swirled. It was simple and elegant. It was also two pay packets worth of dress and he let out a low whistle as he imagined it on Scully.  
The FBI ball is coming and it has been years since he’d attended. He remembers waltzing around the floor with Diana and getting tipsy on the flat beer. She’d said something blunt about his behaviour and he’d ended up going home alone. The tuxedo he’d worn back then had been ruined in the fire during that case with Phoebe. It must time for a new one.  
He puts the invitation in the envelope and leaves it on her dining table under a long-stemmed rose, its deep yellow petals edged with a red tip, like something was changing inside the flower. He lets himself out and waits for the phone call.  
He doesn’t wait long.  
“Mulder, was that you?”  
“Was that me what, Scully?” He stirs his soup and wonders when he lost the skill of cooking that his mother had spent many hours drilling into him.  
“The invitation. Please tell me it was you. Otherwise, I’ve got a stalker and after Padgett…”  
“It was me,” he says. He hadn’t even thought about Padgett. What a fool. Insensitive and careless. “I’m sorry, Scully. I should have just asked.”  
She laughs. “It’s okay. And thank you. The rose is beautiful.”  
He waits. And waits. She chats about their latest case and then says goodbye.  
“Hang on, Scully. You haven’t given me an answer.”  
“Oh, you’re right! Of course I’ll go to the ball with you, Mulder. It would be my pleasure.”  
Oh no, no, Miss Scully, he thinks, the pleasure is all mine.  
The Josh Exley case had been a ride. And he’s feeling mischievous. He leaves the message on her answer phone and heads out. She looks beautiful in the dark, relaxed and open. There’s a side to Scully that he’s discovered how to tap into these days and she’s playful as she asks him what gives.  
“You’ve never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?”  
When she’s fitted against him he wiggles and pushes as much as he dares. She’s laughing at his jokes and letting him guide her hands on the bat to strike that ball. She’s a natural. This is natural and he banters on.  
“How you couldn’t afford that new suede coat on a G-Woman’s salary,” and then they’re laughing together and hitting the ball to the skies and he’s lost track of time and he doesn’t care about his triple X bill. All he cares about this moment and he feels something inside changing.  
“Come back to mine for a coffee, Scully?”  
Her smile fades a little and his stomach tingles.  
“It’s late.”  
“I know. But it’s also the weekend and as far as I know you’re not Cinderella.”  
She looks to her feet and shrugs. “No glass slippers.”  
He’s always slightly worried when she comes to his. He’s no housekeeper and his apartment is nothing special. But it’s home and he hopes she finds it comfortable. She walks to his fish tank, checking on the mollies. The green light makes her look ethereal and when she turns around and smiles at him his knees tremble. He’s holding the gift bag and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.  
The Josh Exley case had kept Mulder busy and she’d loved hearing about it. And clearly he’s feeling mischievous. His message on her answer phone is playful and cheeky but irresistible. She heads out.  
“You’ve never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?”  
“I guess I’ve found more necessary things to do with my time that slap a piece of horsehide with a stick.”  
It’s just the sort of thing he would say to her about her interests. He’s taught her well.  
When she’s fitted against him she wiggles and pushes as much as she dares. She’s laughing at his jokes and she’s listening to his hips before hands flirting. This is natural and she lets him banter on.  
“How you couldn’t afford that new suede coat on a G-Woman’s salary,” and then they’re laughing together and hitting the ball to the skies and he’s lost track of time and he doesn’t care about his triple X bill. All he cares about this moment and he feels something inside changing.  
“Come back to mine for a coffee, Scully?”  
She feels a sudden pang of nerves and his hopeful smile fades.  
“It’s late.”  
“I know. But it’s also the weekend and as far as I know you’re not Cinderella.”  
She looks to her feet and shrugs. “No glass slippers.”  
She’s always loved his apartment. He’s no housekeeper and there’s something special his poky quarters that thrills her every time. His prints on the wall, the clutter on his desk that displays the brilliance of his mind, the books he has on the shelf in his bedroom. She walks to his fish tank, checking on the mollies. When she looks round at him, he’s back lit by the soft glow of his wall lamp. He looks so handsome, but vulnerable. He does smile then and her knees tremble. He’s holding the gift bag and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.  
He moves towards her and presses the bag into her hand. She breathes out roughly and opens it. He watches her breasts move with her deeper inhalations and her skin flush from her chest and up neck as she pulls out the dress, wrapped in tissue paper, but obviously the one she had looked at so many times.  
“Mulder,” she says, her voice just a reedy whisper. There are tears in her eyes and her cheeks bloom. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”  
He shakes his head. “It’s what you wanted, Scully.” He’s so close to her now, that he can hear the hitch in her breathing. “It’s what you deserve.”  
She takes the bag and opens it, her pulse pounding in her ears, blood rushing to every surface so that she’s feverish. She takes the gift out and sees the colour of the fabric and knows instantly what he’s done.  
“Mulder,” she says, her voice just a reedy whisper. She feels hot tears spring and the heat rises in her face. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”  
He shakes his head. “It’s what you wanted, Scully.” He’s so close to her now, that she can smell his cologne. “It’s what you deserve.”  
And then he bends to kiss her because it’s the only rational response in the situation. The tissue paper rustles between them and he can feel the wedge of the dress against his stomach. He tamps down an image of her wearing it because it would be overstepping the mark for her to feel his desire so quickly after kissing her for the first time. Their lips are touching and he’s testing the waters, waiting for the moment to deepen it. When she shifts slightly closer, he knows it’s time and he opens his mouth, tasting her. She lets out a tiny sigh and he swallows it, loving that he has something of Scully inside him. He doesn’t want the moment to end. He wants her to breathe life into him forever. But she pulls away and drops her head and he sees the tear drop splash against her shoe.  
And then he bends to kiss her because it’s the only rational response in the situation. The tissue paper rustles between them and she can feel the wedge of the dress against her chest. She tamps down an image of him waltzing her around this room wearing nothing but the dress and she feels her nipples harden at the thought. She’s glad of the cover of the dress because it would be overstepping the mark for him to feel her desire so quickly after kissing him for the first time. Their lips are touching and she’s testing the waters, waiting for the moment to deepen it. When she shifts slightly closer, he opens his mouth, and she tastes him. She lets out a tiny sigh and he laps at it. She loves that she has given him something of her own, something as precious as a breath. She doesn’t want the moment to end. She wants to breathe life into him forever. But she pulls away and drops her head and a tear betrays her emotions.  
His arms are still around her shoulders.  
“Scully?”  
“I’m fine, Mulder. It’s just all too much.”  
He lifts her chin and smiles. “I’d say it’s not enough.” He kisses her again, chaste but full of promise. “Try it on for me?”  
She lifts it up and twists it back and forth. “It’s beautiful.”  
“You have good taste.”  
Looking up at him, she smiles at his words. “Yes, I do.”  
When he asks her to try on the dress she feels a power jolt through her. She realises this isn’t just about her. This is for them. They are partners. They are undoubtedly attracted to each other. There is love so profound between them that it’s too difficult to quantify. But the simple act of him buying her this dress has undone her resolve and she feels the edges ripping away like the tissue paper.  
She does have good taste, she thinks, slipping past him into his bedroom.  
When she appears at his doorway a thunderbolt strikes him and he feels like he’s having a heart attack. The way she is wrapped in the crimson fabric, the startling blue of her eyes, the upsweep of her hair that she’s somehow magically pinned on her head, the narrow waist, the swell of her breasts. She’s a vision. And he can’t move.  
“Mulder?”  
She’s never seen him pale so quickly, yet sweat beads are forming on his forehead. He sways on his feet. A small cough erupts from his throat and she ducks her head to give him time to compose himself. But when she looks up again, he’s still staring.  
“Mulder?”  
He walks towards her and takes her hand. “You look amazing.”  
“It’s this dress, Mulder. It’s stunning.”  
“No, Scully. It’s you.”  
She reaches up and kisses his cheek and he takes her face and pulls it around, capturing her lips. He clasps her hand between them. A conduit for their beating hearts.  
He dances her around in the hallway. Silent music leading them. He’s sure he didn’t deliberately push them back towards his bedroom but she yelps when her legs hit the bed and they stop to laugh.  
“Sorry,” he says, pulling her away.  
“I should take this off, before it gets ruined.”  
He’s feeling bold. “Can I help?”  
“Mulder,” she chuffs. But she doesn’t push him away. She just turns and he unzips it and lets it fall to floor in rivers of crimson. She steps out of it and turns back to him, arms extended and when she kisses him and her breasts push against his chest he wonders, for the first time that night, if this whole thing is real.


End file.
